


Diamonds Are a Boy's Best Friend

by Cobrilee



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cop!Derek, Derica friendship, First Kiss, M/M, Stydia Friendship, cop!erica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: It usually goes like this: two people meet, they fall in love, then comes the engagement ring. Because Stiles never does anything the normal way, his love storystartswith the diamond. (Sort of.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Diamonds Are a Boy's Best Friend | Лучшие друзья мальчиков — это бриллианты](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491302) by [menthol_ocean (Risu_kii)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risu_kii/pseuds/menthol_ocean)



To Lydia’s credit, she waits until the blonde’s boyfriend-fiance-leaves the table before she leans over, clucking her tongue, and says imperiously, “The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.” The blonde looks up, nonplussed, and then stares down at the ring on her left hand as if she’s trying to visually assess Lydia’s claim for herself. “Sorry, sweetie. I know you were probably thrilled to get a rock that size, but your boyfriend went for quantity over quality. I just thought you should know.”

The blonde murmurs distractedly, lifting her hand to study the ring more closely, tilting it this way and that, presumably to catch the light so she can see how it refracts through the chunk of-likely-cubic zirconia. Lydia settles back into her seat, clearly satisfied that she’s saved one marriage the pain of finding out, after the fact of course, that the engagement ring was presented under false pretenses.

Stiles watches the whole thing with mild interest. Lydia had become absorbed in her phone about ten minutes ago, so Stiles had started scrolling through Tinder to amuse himself. He has no idea why the stupid app is still on his phone, considering the three dates he’d acquired through it were all abysmal failures. Honestly, he should start looking for stuff to load onto his Kindle, since his and Lydia’s weekly Sunday-morning breakfast date usually devolved into silence after they’d caught up on the weekly happenings. It would be nice to have something to do until it’s time for her to leave for whatever spa appointment she’s booked that week.

The impending drama has the potential to be a lot more interesting than mentally making fun of Tinder profiles, so yeah, he’s game. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been drooling over the blonde’s fiance for the half hour they’ve been sitting at the table beside Stiles and Lydia. He’s the worst cliche ever-tall, dark, and handsome. Or, okay, the best cliche ever. Stiles is still debating that one.

When TDH comes back to the table, Blondie is already tugging at the plain, slender band of yellow gold topped with the offensive hunk of CZ. As TDH settles himself back into his seat, Blondie pings the cheap ring at his chest and sobs, “How could you do this to me, Derek?”

_ Damn it, he even has a pretty name _ , Stiles acknowledges, dismayed that there’s one more thing about the guy to find appealing. As Derek’s face dissolves into shock, Stiles attempts to duck his head so it’s not quite so obvious that he’s highly interested in how this all plays out. Lydia, of course, has no such reservations. She’s watching raptly as Blondie hiccups, dramatically dropping her face into her hands.

“What the hell, Erica?” Derek protests, and Stiles wrinkles his nose. Derek and Erica. Jesus, could they get any more cutesy and perfect?

“You told me that was an heirloom ring!” Erica wails, pointing at the ring that had bounced off Derek’s-ridiculously perfect-chest and landed on the table in front of him. “You said it was your great-great-grandmother’s!”

Lydia whistles under her breath; Stiles is certain it has less to do with the bald-faced lie than it does the fact that someone had tried to pass the thing off as an heirloom. Derek is staring at Erica in bafflement, and Stiles  _ almost  _ feels sorry for the guy. Or he would, if he wasn’t a thousand percent certain Derek will have a new girlfriend before the end of the week.

“What are you talking about?” Derek sighs, face morphing from baffled to scowly as he takes in the attention they’re getting. “And would you shut the hell up before the entire diner thinks I’m a low-life lying asshole?”

“Too late,” Lydia chimes in, eyeing him disdainfully. “You deserve worse for lying to your poor fiancee, and buying that horrid piece of junk in the first place. Where did it come from? Wal-Mart?”

Derek glares at her. “Yes,” he snaps, and Lydia’s horrified gasp has Stiles fighting back a grin. The idea of anyone purchasing anything at Wal-Mart, ever, is Lydia’s worst nightmare. “Which my lovely  _ fiancee  _ over there knows damn good and well,” he continues, sarcasm dripping from every word. Stiles is kind of impressed, honestly.

Erica, whose loud sobs have trailed off into giggles, peeks out from between her fingers. “Detective Erica Reyes,” she introduces herself, extending a hand, which Stiles takes with no small amount of confusion. “That’s Detective Hale,” she adds, gesturing at Derek, whose eyebrows have knit together so tightly that Stiles is kind of convinced they’ve melded into one giant Eyebrow of Doom. Wiggling her ring finger, she grins. “The ring was a prop for a case we were working. We just busted the asshole earlier this morning and are celebrating being done with the paperwork.”

“And someone forgot to take off the fake ring,” Derek contributes dryly. Now that he’s not being vocally accused of lying, his face has settled into something more amused and fond as he glances at Erica.

She shrugs. “I liked pretending, okay? Who knows how long it’s going to be before I have one for real?”

Derek snorts, rolling his eyes. “Like you don’t already know Boyd’s had your real ring picked out for months.”

Stiles is enjoying the banter between the two, and is more than a little relieved that Erica seems to have her own significant other. It doesn’t mean that Derek is single, or that he’s into men at all, but it allows Stiles to buy into his own little fantasy for awhile longer.

“Thanks for looking out for a sister, though,” Erica offers to Lydia, who, with her usual grace and aplomb, has waved off her gaffe. “If we hadn’t been fake engaged, I would have been seriously pissed to find out I was being scammed. Of course, I would never have bought that cheap piece of shit as a legitimate ring, but you never know. Some women don’t know their diamonds from their assholes.”

Lydia arches one perfectly-groomed eyebrow while Stiles gapes a little and Derek pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Detective Reyes. You are a representative of the San Diego Police Department. Could you please demonstrate a little more class and decorum, please?”

“Fuck that,” Erica scoffs, and Stiles finds himself grinning. He really likes this woman. “Nobody who knows anything about law enforcement expects class and decorum.”

“This is true,” Stiles chimes in helpfully, finally seeing an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. “Besides, she’s interesting and entertaining as hell, that beats class and decorum any day of the week.”

Derek appraises him for a moment before glaring again. “Down, boy. She’s got a boyfriend who could kick your ass in three seconds flat.”

Stiles isn’t sure if he should be offended or heartbroken that the guy has just completely obliterated his pride. “Whoa,  _ tiger _ ,” he counters. “As lovely as the lady is,” and here he gives a winning smile at Erica, who bats her eyes prettily back at him, “she doesn’t exactly do it for me. Nor would any woman.” He allows them to draw their own conclusions, and Erica lights up when she connects the dots.

“You two  _ have _ to join us for breakfast,” she announces, and before anyone can protest, she’s wiggling the tables to meet in the middle. Lydia introduces herself and Stiles as they push the extra chairs out of the way, and when everyone is settled, Stiles has Lydia on one side, Derek on the other, and Erica across from him. The two women immediately turn to each other and begin discussing Erica’s actual engagement ring, and Stiles looks hesitantly at Derek, whose expression can be best described as bemused.

“I feel like I’m in the middle of a Chris Rock routine,” Stiles confides, and Derek flicks a glance of acknowledgment at him. “You know, the bit about two women getting their husbands together for grown men playdates? The one wife encourages her husband to talk to the other man by telling him he likes baseball, and so does the other man?”

There’s no recognition on Derek’s face, and Stiles groans inwardly. This is painful. He has no idea what to say at this point that won’t make him look like even more of a blathering idiot.

Slowly, the corners of Derek’s mouth begin to curl upward. “I like baseball,” he offers, and at first Stiles thinks he’s making fun of him, but then… “I’m a Mets fan.”

“Holy fuck, seriously?” Stiles blurts out, and when Derek nods, he feels a crushing sense of relief. “Me too! Around here you’re more likely to get crucified for being a Mets fan, everyone around the office always has Dodgers pennants and jerseys and shit.”

“Office?” Derek repeats, cocking his head curiously. “What do you do?”

Stiles beams; he loves talking about his job. It puts most people to sleep, but Stiles still loves it. “I’m a marine engineer,” he informs Derek proudly. “Right now I’m working on a team that’s building a new naval carrier. I’m heading up the unit responsible for developing the steering system.”

“And that’s all he can tell you,” Lydia cuts in smoothly. Stiles frowns; he wasn’t going to get into the top-secret details, and Lydia should have known better. She gives him a sweet smile. “Stiles likes to talk, and sometimes he forgets that he would be better served keeping his mouth shut.”

“Bossy,” he mutters, and Derek coughs to cover his snort. “So how long have you been with the SDPD?” Stiles asks, returning his attention to Derek, and that’s enough to distract him. With Erica’s help, he describes several cases he’s closed over the past eight years, which Stiles deduces would put him at about twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old.

The conversation continues for long enough that Lydia finally excuses herself. Stiles gives her a hug, she kisses him on the cheek, and he waves her off distractedly as he settles back into the interrupted discussion of the pros and cons of Erica using her obvious femininity and blatant sexuality to get information when she’s undercover. The consensus is that it’s gross and makes her feel slimy, but it’s effective, and the information she gathers is usually vital to the investigation, so she’s willing to keep doing it as long as it works.

Eventually, Erica checks her watch and announces she has to meet Boyd (who sounds charming in a lowkey way-Stiles would like to meet him, and has been assured by his new BFF Erica that he will, soon), and then Stiles and Derek are left at the table. It’s hovering on the edge of awkward; Stiles wonders if it’s time for him to leave, to spare Derek from having to be the one to call the impromptu brunch quits. He’s about to open his mouth when Derek pushes back from the table a little, and Stiles tries not to be disappointed, but he can’t help it.

The two walk out together, chatting amiably, and when they reach Stiles’ Jeep, Derek gives him a shy, hopeful smile. “I’m glad your friend was nosy enough to say something to Erica,” he admits, laughing a little. “I enjoyed meeting both of you.”

Stiles reaches for the back of his neck, scratching at it absent-mindedly while his brain races for an appropriate response. “Lydia’s a lot like Erica appears to be-not afraid to speak her mind, although Lyds is a little less, how can I say this nicely-”

“Brash and bull-in-a-china-shop?” Derek interjects wryly, and Stiles chuckles as he nods in agreement. “Either way, if she’d kept her mouth shut, I wouldn’t have spent the last couple hours with the most interesting man I’ve met in a long time.” It comes out haltingly, and Derek casts his eyes downward after the admission slips from him, the words a near-whisper by the end.

“How about we try this again?” Stiles suggests, heartbeat fluttering wildly in his chest, like thousands of butterflies beating their wings against his ribs in an effort to break free. “Dinner, tomorrow night?”

Derek’s eyes dart back up to his, warmth and relief shining in their multicolored depths. “Sounds perfect,” he breathes, and that smile that Stiles already adores, the one that’s both a little shy, a little hopeful, and a little eager, lights his face. Stiles kind of wants to smother it in kisses. “Text me a time and place.”

“You got it. See you tomorrow, Derek.” He leans in slightly, holding himself back until he sees Derek lean in even more, and then he’s cupping Derek’s face with his hands, pulling him down just enough to meet Stiles’ mouth with his own.

It’s a sweet kiss, gentle, but with heat behind it. Stiles knows that if he’s not careful, he’ll be consumed by the promised inferno.

Derek’s eyes are hooded as he takes a step back, and there’s a hunger in them that makes Stiles shiver in anticipation. “I’m looking forward to it.”

\-----

When Derek presents the ring to him three years later, he insists it really is an heirloom, inherited from his great-great-grandfather. Stiles laughs and throws his arms around his neck, pressing fleeting kisses all over his face, each one accompanied by a breathless “yes”.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/)!


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